


Are You Somebody Else?

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [31]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Homes, Cheerleader Betty, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Nerd Jughead, Popular Betty, bughead - Freeform, from best friends to lovers, loser jughead, nerd betty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 12:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Betty and Jughead are best friends.Until they're not.





	Are You Somebody Else?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy!
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> For optimum reading experience, read whilst listening to: You're Somebody Else by Flora Cash

Betty is Jughead's best friend. 

She's his  _only_ friend, and he thinks the world of her because he's seen her perfect and pure, but also crying and screaming at her mom. She sits next to him in every class and they live next door to each other so they get to walk to and from school together. He was with her when she got her first period and she'd wept at the difference of it all, and she's seen him with his morning glory at sleepovers, but they don't get embarrassed because they're best friends. 

Which is why when they turn fourteen and she starts acting weird, he chalks it up to one of those changes that girls and boys go through. He's not going through anything; he still goes home to his mom's strained smile and his dad's drunken glaze and plays with his sister. He still thinks all girls aside from Betty are gross, and that he's going to be a detective one day. He hasn't had all the weird changes everyone else talks about, but that's okay because he doesn't want to be like everyone else. His mom tells him his changes will come later, and though he's got the spots and the hair and the croaky voice he feels the same. Betty doesn't feel the same. She's started styling her hair differently and during their sleep overs he watches her dab white cream onto her spots. He always turns her down when she offers it to him. 

"It's good for the skin, Juggie," she informs brightly, peeking in the mirror. She looks into the mirror more than she used to. He shrugs, tugging his beanie further onto his head and feeling awkward in her room for the first time in years. "You should also make sure you drink plenty of water." 

He watches her reflection, and then his eyes drift to the desk. It used to be crammed with lego and toy cars but now all he can see are tubes of makeup like the one his mom has. He marches over to the desk and prods a purple lipstick container. "Did you get rid of your lego?" He asks, and she doesn't meet his eyes; she's now rubbing moisturising cream onto her neck. He picks up the lipstick and she snatches it out of his hand and sets it back down. "I didn't know you wore makeup." He offers in a confused voice; nose scrunched up. "You don't need it. You're already pretty."

She smiles at him then, one of the Betty smiles he likes so much. "Okay." She sets down her stuff and turns to him, splotches of white on her face but eyes still the same ocean blue. "What do you want to do the project on? I was thinking we could build an old cathedral out of lollipop sticks."

He nods eagerly, "yeah!" He grins, rushing over to get his notebook as he starts jotting down ideas. "Mrs Henry will love that for sure!" 

They do work on their project and Jughead gets to eat a lot of lollipops. He's always been a little chubby and his t-shirts stretch over the swell of his stomach and jeans are always difficult to put on at the thigh and in most photos he's got a double chin, but he doesn't mind. Sugar tastes good and the break outs don't bother him. His mother reprimands him gently and without any heat, but she's never really home to make dinner, and his dad always picks him up a dessert from Pops. Betty doesn't seem to eat as much as she used to, and when they sit opposite each other at the cafeteria, more often than not, she's looking somewhere else and picking at her salad. Jughead's been talking to her about an idea he's got for the Cathedral top, and how they could maybe base it off Notredame and put in a little Quasimodo, when Betty cuts him off. 

"I was thinking of becoming a cheerleader." She says in that bright voice that she uses when she's lying to her mom about her report card. Jughead frowns, pulled from his train of thought and wondering how that connects to what he was talking about. He can't follow the link, and stares at her with fries in his mouth. "You know, it would be awesome for extra curricula's and my older sister's a Vixen, how cool would that be?" She reaches over to touch his arm and he frowns. "You could come and watch me!"

He chews on his fries and looks down at his tray. "I don't like sports." He points out, even though she already knows that. But then he thinks about how Betty's his best friend, and how she always used to help him with his french homework and he nods decisively. "You'd make a great cheerleader." He says, despite the fact he'd never known she wanted to be one. 

Her smile is radiant. 

Betty becomes a cheerleader and Jughead isn't really surprised. Betty always works hard at whatever she wants, and so when he sees her in the school corridor in a Vixen uniform he whoops for her and she blushes as she skips to his locker. "I knew you could do it." He insists, shoving his gameboy into his pocket. "You wanna head home and show your mom? Maybe we should stop at mine first, Jellybean might lose her mind at a real life cheerleader-"

"Betty!" Comes a high, impatient voice, and they both turn to see a group of cheerleaders by the back exit. Jughead furrows his brows in confusion. That's Cheryl and Veronica and the popular people; people who don't and who have never spoken to people like Betty and Jughead on the lowest rungs of the social chain. "We're going to Pops, you coming?" Cheryl calls, and Jughead's winded over the fact that the red-headed beauty is even giving them the time of day. 

His blonde best friend turns to him with wide eyes and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Sorry, Juggie! Another time, okay?"

"Oh right, sure." He manages, "bye, Betts." But she's already half way down the corridor and it catches him off guard at how much she looks like the others. It's not just the uniform, he notes. Its their perfect hair and long legs and smooth skin. She's as tall as the rest of them too, and Jughead's growth spurt hasn't happened yet so he has to crane his neck to look up at them. They're all beautiful and he wonders now whether Betty's gone and ascended the ladder. 

He walks home alone for the first time in a long time and it seems a lot longer than before.

But she still comes to his house on weekends and they work on their project together and they still laugh like before. She's started wearing shiny lipgloss that drags his attention to her mouth; it's pretty and pink and it looks really soft. He immediately scolds himself for thinking things like that and blames stupid puberty, before going back to trying to unglue his fingers. 

One night, when he knocks on her bedroom window because her mom still scares him a little bit, she stares at him in blatant surprise. He shoves his beanie further down onto his head and looks around her room; it's a mess. "Aren't we working on our project?" He asks, embarrassed with her in a way he's never been before. He'd never quite had the feeling that Betty didn't want him here but he definitely feels it now. She smiles though, and touches his arm. She's wearing makeup, more than he's ever seen and it makes her face look sharper and shinier than he's used to. Her hair is in crimped waves and her eyes are surrounded by smoky darkness. She looks like the girls off the adverts. 

"Sorry, Juggie, I completely forgot!" She apologises, turning to all her clothes. "I got invited to a party! It's at the Blossom Mansion, can you even believe that?"

She sounds like it's amazing so he tries to summon some enthusiasm. "That's uh...great." He manages, and she beams nodding; her cheeks and red rosed but it doesn't look as nice as her natural blush. 

"I know! I need to find something to wear, what do you think?" She gestures to her bed which has the entire contents of her wardrobe splayed out onto it. He understands the mess now, and perches on her window cill and tells her what he thinks she wants to hear. He collects the materials for the project into his hands and decides he can work on it himself tonight when she whirls around and exclaims; "Ta da!" to showcase the finished product. He stares; slightly slack jawed. She's wearing the shortest skirt he's ever seen on her, and her legs are bare and glittery like a fairy's, and her black top is lacy and he can see her bra underneath, and though it's long sleeved it seems as though she shouldn't even be wearing it. Her lips are pink and her hair looks darker. 

"Have you dyed your hair?" He asks in a puzzled voice. Now that he looks, strands of it definitely look darker.

She waves him off. "It's called low-lighting, Jug, don't worry. What do you think?" She twirls and stumbles and that's when he sees the strappy black heels. He clutches the cathedral tighter into his chest. The longer he stares, the less sure he is that he recognises this girl. 

"You look beautiful, Betty," he manages, and heads for the window. But then she squeals delightedly and tugs him into a hug and pecks his pimpled cheek. 

"You look good too! Come on," and she's tugging him towards the door. He lets himself get pulled and manages to set the project down. Her hand is soft and warm when its twined with his.

"Where are we going?" He asks as they traipse down the stairs. 

"A cab's coming to take us to the party."

Jughead remembers when parents use to drive people around. Not his parents, obviously, but other peoples. "Wait- us?"

"Well yeah! I'm not going to my first ever party without my best friend." 

It makes him smile like something stupid. That's his Betty, the girl who never judged him once for the amount he ate or for what he wore or the way he looked. The girl who saw past all of that and loved him anyway. So even though he doesn't think he wants to go to a party, and he's fairly certain no one will want him there anyway, he gets into the cab with her and watches the way her knee bobs up and down in anticipation. In the close confines of the car he can smell her perfume and he wonders when she started wearing it. He tries to entice her into longwinded conversations about conspiracy theories that they used to love, but she's too nervous to focus on them for long, so he lets the silence lie. Blossom Mansion is everything they thought it would be, and everything the gossip mill promised. It's huge and loud and there's light from every window and music blasting and an outdoor pool  _and_ an indoor pool and so many teenagers. Jughead didn't think that Riverdale even had so many kids. 

He loses Betty in the first half an hour, and spends the rest of the night keeping to the corners. He hides in shadow and watches the jocks, the athletes, the pretty girls and the mean girls drink and scream and sing. He's watching from a vantage point on the second floor as he leans over a bannister, as a guy tries to down two bottles of some alcohol he can't name at once, when a hand clamps down onto his shoulder. He jerks out of the grip as he recognises Reggie, but before he can pull out of it completely, the taller boy gets a fistful of his threadbare jacket. "Jones!" He screams, alcohol strong on his breath. "What the hell are you doing here? I didn't think you knew how to talk to other humans let alone come to a party!" He's laughing and his eyes are unfocused and Jughead tries to get out of his hold. 

"I came with Betty." He manages, and Reggie snorts. 

"Man, I love Betty. You know she kisses with tongues,  _and_ she let me put her hand up her skirt."

Jughead burns white hot. "No, she didn't." He croaks, voice hitching and breaking and Reggie, whose own voice is low and smooth, sneers and releases him so he staggers back. 

"'fraid she did! They all want a bit of the Mantle!" He shoves his hips forward lewdly and Jughead swallows and turns. He bumps right into a red-haired guy, who he briefly recognises as Archie from his math class. 

Archie takes a look at his face and Jughead takes in their differences. Reggie and Archie and everyone else is so tall and so strong, and he's never been more aware of his own, short and tubby body type than right now. "You okay, man?" Archie asks, and he sounds surprisingly sober. Jughead nods, wiping his sleeve roughly against his face when he realises he's crying. "Hey Reggie, leave him alone," Archie snaps, and Reggie makes a sound before he throws up. Archie flings an arm over Jughead's shoulder and starts leading him down a corridor. Jughead wants to protest, unsure whether Archie's going to take him somewhere to humiliate him and beat him up despite the sweet display he's just witnesses. "He's an asshole man, don't listen to him," he insists, and Jughead stares at the ground. 

He's surprised when they break out onto a balcony; the cool night air is a relief on his skin and he relishes the isolation. It overlooks the Thornhill grounds and the distant green makes him itch for his laptop. Archie's voice snaps him out of it, as the taller boy joins him in leaning out over the marble. 

"I think my mom's leaving, Jug." He says, and Jughead blinks in surprise into the cold wind. He didn't even know that Archie knew his name. 

He nods. "I think my mom's leaving too." He says honestly, and Archie shoots him a side-look of open trust. "But your dad's a good guy, Archie. You're a good guy too. You'll be okay."

Archie's staring at him like he desperately believes everything he's saying and Jughead feels a little uncomfortable. The red-head is clearly looking for a tether, clearly feels like he can't trust the popular crowd that are supposed to be his friends. He looks like a lost puppy, and Jughead looks up at him and offers a small, but earnest smile. Archie's shoulders slump in relief, and he nods. "Yeah," he whispers, like he's memorised Jughead's words. "I'll be okay. We'll be okay." 

When Archie goes inside to get them both a drink, Jughead hops over the side of the balcony and tries to look for Betty.

He finds her in the pool making out with Veronica in front of the basketball team, and confused and hurt, he leaves. He runs back to Betty's house, and gets the Cathedral project. She'll be too busy to work on it with him now. Too busy with Chuck and Reggie.

 

The next morning he doesn't see Betty at all, she skips the classes they have together, and when lunchtime comes he sees her sitting with all the other cheerleaders. She's barely distinguishable from the others. He sits at his empty table and chows down on his three helpings of burgers. He's tried to meet her eyes, and when she does see him, she smiles and waves, before turning away. He understands the pull of popularity, not really, but he says he does, so he just eats and tries not to think about it. 

And then there's the clatter of another lunch tray and he looks up to see Archie in a grey tee and a wide smile with his backpack slung over his shoulders. "Hey, Jug," he grins as he sits down, and Jughead stares at him. Archie just laughs, and Jughead wonders whether he's always happy. It reminds him of Betty, a little bit. The old Betty, at least. "I saw in Chem today you don't have a partner?"

Betty's his partner, but Betty didn't show. He shrugs, a little comforted by the presence of someone else at the table. A few of the jocks, including Reggie, are watching Archie in their peripheral but no one actually does anything. "I guess not."

Archie beams. "There's an odd number in the class, and I was thinking maybe we could partner up. I promise I'm not as stupid as everyone thinks."

That makes Jughead snort loudly, and he looks at Archie properly, and takes in the red hair and the unfairly symmetrical face, and marvels at how this guy who shouldn't be at all, if societal rankings dictate anything, looking at him. But here he is, looking past the dirty beanie and spots. The least Jughead can do is give him a chance, especially now that Betty doesn't seem to be interested. He doesn't want friends, but he recognises that he  _needs_ at least one. So he nods. "Sure, Arch. And I promise I'm not as morose and distant as everyone thinks."

Archie reaches over to steal a fry with a contagious smile. "Well, I don't know about that. So, do you play  _Dragon Slayer?"_

And that's how Jughead ends up at Archie's house that afternoon playing video games. He keeps waiting for Archie to say that he has to go, to spend time with his many other friends, but it never comes. He spends nearly every day with Jughead, and most weekends too. He doesn't go to parties, and he has lunch with him everyday without fail. The jocks even stop looking at him, even though Archie's still one of the athletes on the team. They only seem to talk to him on the field, and Jughead wonders whether Archie knows he's given up his popularity for him. But then Archie's pouring melted butter over popcorn for the start of their movie marathon on a Saturday night when the biggest party of the month is happening at the Lodge Manor, and Jughead thinks he probably knows.

Miraculously, he just doesn't mind. 

In fact, Archie seems happy. Jughead thinks at first, he just likes having another body in the house now that his mom is gone. But Mr Andrews look at Jughead softly, and is warm and kind in all the ways that fictional fathers are. Sometimes he looks at Jughead like he's seeing someone else, but then it's gone quick as a flash, and he's giving them pizza. Archie's relaxed and kind and he makes the nerdiest jokes and he looks as if relishes in Jughead's laughter, and they go hiking on sunny weekends. Jughead nearly collapses with exhaustion, and Archie cheers whenever they reach a peak. Jughead's happy. 

His dad asks once; "Where's Betty? You haven't mentioned her in a while." 

He shrugs, eyeing the bottles on the kitchen counter. "She's got new friends." 

"She'll come back to you," his dad said certainly, "they always remember their real friends."

It's comforting for a moment, but then again, his dad says a lot of things. Besides, Jughead doesn't need Betty. He's happy and Archie is amazing. He's happy. 

So that's why it all has to end. He comes home from school one day and sees the car gone. He gets inside and notices that his mom and JB are too. His dad's on the couch; face wet with tears and eyes blurry. Jughead swallows; coldness washing him out from the inside. "Did you even try to stop them?" He asks, and his dad yells so loud the walls feel like they shake. Then he passes out. Jughead puts him in the recovery position in a perfunctory manner, and then packs a camping bag with everything he needs. He leaves a note on the table, not thinking, just acting to survive. He's always been good at that.  _I love you dad. See you around._ He writes, and then he drains all the alcohol in the house down the sink. 

He doesn't know where he's going to go, but as he steps outside into the late afternoon light, his eyes land on Betty's house. He thinks about her, and knows that  _his_ Betty would let him in. That even Alice would soften to him in the ways the she did whenever she caught him crying. So he finds himself walking up the front gate, resolutely not looking at the ladder up against Betty's window, though his traitorous mind still wonders who's using it now. Last he knew, Veronica's her best friend. She's even got a boyfriend. He brings his hand to knock on the door, but before he can, it opens and he sees Betty.

He hasn't been this close to her in months, and he's struck by how different and yet the same she looks. Her hair is still too dark and her face is a little too made up, but her eyes and her worried concern is as earnest as she's always been. "Juggie..." she whispers, taking him in, and he's suddenly sickened with himself. Is this what he wanted? Her pity? He doesn't fit with this new person she is, and he takes a step away from her in a fit of self-loathing. She reaches out for him, eyes confused. "What's happened?"

She doesn't have any idea. She never talked to him again after the party. She never even texted. She never came back to Chem, and he found out weeks later that she'd transferred classes to fit a timetable that matches her cheerleading routine better. She'd never even told him. The last words she'd said to him were:  _I'm going to try and find Cheryl, okay?_

Well, he thinks, at least she found her. 

"This was a mistake." He says tightly. "Sorry." 

He walks until his feet hurt, and by the time he gets to the Andrew's house, he has just enough sense to think it's a bad idea. He's been wandering for a long time, but still made a half circle. It's dark now, and he stands outside the front door, wondering if he can bear to be the burden that he is. He wonders if maybe he should just go. He knows he's just fourteen, but he's got some cash and he could hitchhike and just keep walking forever. He's so lost in the thought of whether he'd go east or west, north or south, that when the front door opens and bathes him in warm light, he doesn't see it. By the time he blinks back into focus, Fred is kneeling down in front of him. Fred looks like such a dad, he thinks, with well-groomed facial hair and kind eyes. He starts crying and Fred collects him into his arms. "You're not going anywhere." He whispers, and Jughead wonders if Fred can read minds. "This house was built with a space for you in it, Jug." 

Jughead swallows hard, and cries again when Fred gives him his bed for the first night and crashes on the couch. 

In a week, the spare room's been all made up for him, and he has a wardrobe and a chest of draws, and now that Mary's gone, there is space on the coat rack for his things. The shower that he shares with Archie is spacious and the water's always hot. Archie thinks it's amazing, he declares that he and Jughead are now really brothers, and they do their homework at the kitchen table whilst Fred cooks, and Jughead thinks maybe he shouldn't be allowed to be so happy. But screw it, because he is. Fred makes bacon the way he likes, and Jughead gets comfortable. He does wait, for the first few months, for any sign of tension. For signs that they might want their bedroom back. But it doesn't come, and when Jughead instinctively lurches for the remote and changes the channel against their wishes; he has a fleeting moment of terror that they'll say  _our house, our tv_ but they don't. They just toss popcorn at him and boo at his choices.

The years go by and he forgets Betty.

A long distant best friend. Children have best friends all the time and people change. It's normal and a part of life, and he bears her no ill will. He's seventeen now, and somewhere along the way, he stumbled through puberty. He now stands the same height as Archie, and his fat had diminished. He's too thin now, if anything. His skin's all cleared up, and he thinks that's a product of living with Fred's healthy cooking. Archie and him go for hikes on the weekend, and his legs are tightly muscled in ways that mean he can buy tight jeans and not worry about being able not to put them on. He loses his beanie on a trail one Sunday in March with Archie, and he doesn't miss it. He studies hard and he does well and he picks up a small job at Pop's, and since Fred won't let him pay rent, he brings home dinner every Friday instead. 

Archie tells him that he looks good. That he could probably get a girlfriend now, if he wanted. Jughead looks in the mirror sometimes when he's brushing his teeth. He takes in his bare chest and the definition there; his wiry frame and smooth skin. His toned arms and his jutting hipbones. He takes in the long arch of his neck and the flawless nature of his skin. He takes in the sharp, defined cheekbones and dark floppy hair that falls artlessly into curling locks. He supposes, if he were one for labelling, he'd be seen as quite attractive. But he isn't. He likes the fact that he can reach high shelves. In regards to the way that some women look at him on the bus, he doesn't really care.

 

Life is good, and by the time Christmas rolls around, he crunches through the snow in his boots and braves his way to work. He loves working at Pop's, he just sits behind the counter and types away on slow days, or gets to make milkshakes during the rush hours. When he trudges inside, he waves at Pop, and shrugs off his jacket for the apron. "Gotta visitor for you, Jug," Pop says, his voice warm but his eyes warning. Jughead takes it for what is is and nods, turning to the gestured booth and limbs locking at the sight of his dad. He hasn't seen him since the day he left, and he takes a breath, before walking over. His dad looks good, he thinks, older than the last time he saw him, but better too. 

He sits down carefully opposite him, and notes the coffee his dad is drinking. Neither of them speak for a long time, and when Jughead looks up, it's to find his dad staring at him. "Jug," he whispers, and his voice catches Jughead off guard. It sounds so much like his own voice now. "Look at you, you're all grown up." His eyes water and Jughead watches. "God, you..." he laughs, "whenever I pictured this, I would imagine you in that god awful beanie you used to love so much."

Jughead cracks a small smile at that, and runs his fingers through his hair. "No beanie now."

"No, no there's not." His dad agrees. His eyes are piercing, and he's staring at Jughead as if trying to categorise all the differences. "So uh, Fred's been taking care of you, huh? Never thought I'd see the day." 

He nods. "He's a great guy."

"He sure is."

Silence lingers over the table, and Jughead sighs, shaking his head. "Dad, why are you here? I haven't seen you in years. Have you been in Riverdale all this time?" 

His dad nods. "Yeah, I uh...I rented a trailer down on the Southside. Reunited with the old gang. I needed um...I needed some time to get my act together, Juggie. I know three years is a long time, but I'm clean now and..." he's shaking, and Jughead realises it's not from withdrawal. It's from nerves. "And that house is still there, and I was thinking we could get all new furniture and just start again." 

He wants to. But he also likes what he has. Jughead half shrugs. "Dad, I'm leaving for college in a year anyway."

His dad whistles, eyes still wet. "You're going to college, huh? I always knew you'd do great things, Jug. You still..." he moved his fingers, "you still write, yeah?"

Jughead pats the bag slung over his chest with his laptop in it. "Everyday."

FP's smile is so warm and proud and it makes him feel better than Fred's does. FP's still his father. So it's with a bite of courage and a dash of daring that he nods. One short bob. "I'll move back home, dad. On a temporary basis. To see if it can all work out." 

Fred and Archie are as encouraging and wonderful as they've always been, and being back in that house doesn't bring back any awful memories. In fact, it's kind of nice. He sleeps in the room he used to share with JB and touches the little scribbles she'd draw onto the wall. She probably barely remembers who he is now. She was only four when they left, and now she's off somewhere and she's seven and one day she'll be all grown up. Or not. Jughead grits his teeth and promises himself that he'll find her once he's at college. She'll only be eight, there was still time to salvage what was broken. 

He and his dad alternate between making breakfast and dinner, and Jughead's pleased to find that they have very similar senses of humour. His dad reads his novel, too, and the look he gives Jughead has so much pleasure and esteem in it, that Jughead can only blush. 

It's nice and good, and he goes to school on the old, familiar route, and spends the afternoon at Archie's. He notes that they haven't turned his room back into the spare and he's not sure whether they just haven't gotten round to it, or if they don't quite trust FP. Jughead understands the latter, but he's got a little bit of hope. He gets home in the evenings and spends them with his dad, either doing homework whilst his dad applies to a few local jobs, or watching reruns of old tv shows. It's a pattern he's happy to repeat. He likes patterns. He wouldn't call himself a creature of habit, but he won't sit in any other booth in Pops apart from his favourite. He'll just sit on a stool at the counter and stare at the person in it until they move. 

So one morning, as he steps out into the sunshine to walk to school, he's not prepared for the voice to call his name. He looks up as he slips clicks his satchel shut to see a flash of blonde hair before Betty Cooper comes into focus, leaning against the gate at the bottom of his garden. He walks up the path and out onto the street, nodding at her. She's been in his peripheral for the past few years; and he'd been pleased when she'd settled into her skin. She was still a cheerleader, but her hair had found its way back into that familiar ponytail, and her face had only a little bit of makeup, and her skirts were short, but no longer almost belts. She wore pastel colours and high collars sweaters and seemed more comfortable. 

"Betty." He greeted, raising his eyebrows in surprise as she hurried to walk beside him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"I saw you moved back in last month," she began breathlessly, and he slowed his pace a little. He towered over her now, in a way he hadn't realised before. "I didn't know if it was permanent, but I hope so, and I thought we could walk into school together!" Her voice was bright and sweet. "Just like we used to!"

Jughead half shrugged. "Sure, I guess." 

He wasn't quite sure why she was suddenly talking to him. But it continued. Every morning, no matter what time he left his house, she was by the front gate with a smile and a bagel that she'd always offer and he'd always take. As he packed up his locker at the end of the day, she was there, with a beam, for them to walk home together. If he ever awkwardly informed her that he was going to Archie's, she'd just smile and wish him a good time. It was weird. And then it started to spread to within school; she'd wave at him across corridors and he'd frown and wave back a second too late. 

"Maybe she's got a crush on you." Archie offered one lunch, and Jughead snorted, dipping his chicken nuggets into the sauce. 

"And maybe earth's actually cracked open. Maybe you aren't actually a red head. Maybe my whole life's a lie." 

Archie threw him an eye roll and shrugged. "I dunno, man. You are attractive now, maybe she's just into it."

Jughead shook his head thoughtfully. "Betty's never cared about appearances." Well, not  _never,_ but certainly in regards to other people. Lunch continued as normal, and Betty was by his locker as the last bell went. On their walks to and from home and school, Jughead didn't speak much. Betty was bubbly and talkative and could fill the silences easily enough. She'd peaked his interest a few times, by naming books he'd read or news stories or complaining about ridiculous exams. It wasn't that Jughead couldn't talk. His rants sometimes irritated Archie so much that his best friend had to block him out with music. It was just that he wasn't sure exactly what Betty wanted. He wasn't even sure why she was talking to him again. 

So one day, as they walked home together, Jughead lifted the books out of her arms and into his hands. She shot him a look and he half shrugged. "You looked like they were heavy." He said casually, "and we all know I am a pillar of strength."

She giggled, the wind pushing back a few golden curls of her hair. No sight of lowlights now, just the beautiful, natural blonde that he remembered. 

"Betty," he sighed, and she looked up at him curiously. "Not that I mind, but...why are you talking to me again? After all this time? Did something happen?" 

She swallowed, and looked out towards the long, empty sidewalk before them. "Juggie, I...I've been building up the courage to say sorry for such a long time now. I...I remembered what happened when we were younger, and I'm just so sorry for the way I acted. It was wrong, and you were my best friend and I just ditched you for the chance to be...popular," she confessed the word with a sneer. "I was an idiot, and it was so stupid, I was just...I so badly wanted to  _find_ myself, and you've always known who you were and I...I wish I'd found out earlier too. But I was a stupid teenager, and I...I didn't see what was right in front of me." She looked up at him, and Jughead smiled brilliantly. 

"Betty," he said with a fond smile, "you don't have to be sorry. I've long made peace with our social differences." He watched her frown, and nudged her a little with his shoulder. "Besides, you're making up for it now. You bring me bagels. You have my heart."

Her smile was just as wonderful as he remembered. 

 

In the morning, she was at his gate with a bag of doughnuts. He gasped and rushed towards her, yanking the bag greedily. "You remembered!" He laughed, pulling out a chocolate doughnut victoriously and shoving it into his mouth. She grinned, nodding. 

"I've got three years of bestfriendship to make up for." She said determinedly, "and I'm going to start now." 

He laughed, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "Betty we were friends for ten years consecutively, I think anyone warrants a three year break."

She looked up at him, nuzzled into his chest. "C'mon, Jug. Be honest with me. How did you feel when..?"

He turned away from her then, thinking of his raised fist when he'd been about to knock on her door. He thought of the half finished Cathedral still tucked into his wardrobe at home. They'd never had to hand it in because Betty had swapped classes. He remembered the look on Chuck's face and he remembered how sick he'd felt after eating all that candy. He remembered flinching at the sight of the blue vixen skirt in his peripheral and pausing whenever he saw spot cream in a store. He swallowed thickly and pushed his doughnut stained hand through his hair. "Is Veronica still your friend?" He asked, and she blinked in surprise.

"Yes. Veronica's my best girlfriend. But I want you to be my best guy friend." 

"Do you still know who I am?" He asked, not meanly, but honestly. She nodded assuredly, and it made him smile. 

"I know who you are, Juggie. I'll always know."

He nodded. "I think if Archie hadn't...then I'd have been all alone. I think you left me when I needed you." 

Betty made a small wounded sound, and clutched at his shirt tighter. 

"I think that if I'd ever come to you for help, you would have come back." He added honestly, remembering the concern and her outstretched hand. "I think you've always been my best girl friend, Betty. But I also think it sucks that JB never got to see you in a cheerleading outfit. Some opportunities pass us by."

She grabbed his hand. "I'm not letting this one pass me by."

He wondered whether she was talking about friendship or not. 

He was surprised to find that he hoped not. 

 

Sometimes he sits by the living room window and stare across the street. He sees Betty bent under the hood of her dad's car in dirty overalls and remembers the girl who pushed toy cars across the carpet and forced Jughead to pretend to be the toll man. Sometimes his fingers stop typing and he just stares. His dad sets down a bacon sandwich and gives him a knowing look. "You remember what I told you?" He says, almost smugly, and Jughead lifts his lips into a half smile. 

"They always come back to you." He said, and FP nodded. 

"We all do stupid stuff, Jug. We  _have_ to do stupid stuff, or we wouldn't be human. Now, I think I've got a wrench somewhere." 

And that's how Jughead ends up standing next to Betty, holding a wrench and feeling like an idiot until she grabs it from his hands and laughs. "This is exactly what I needed!" She laughs, and Jughead leans against the car and thinks  _me too._

 

Archie and Betty get on so well it's almost scary. But Jughead's always known he's got good taste in friends, and isn't surprised at their similarities. They're both unfailingly kind and wonderful, and it's only natural when Veronica starts sitting at their table too. Jughead is fully prepared to hate her, and is stunned with himself when he doesn't. Cheerleaders isn't synonymous with evil, it turns out. 

No one asks him to prom, and he doesn't ask anyone either.

Archie had asked Veronica, the perfect excuse to sate his long-lying crush, and Jughead lies in his bed and texts his best friend to say  **have fun tonight.** Archie offers to pick him up and lend him a suit, but Jughead doesn't want to play dress up tonight. In more ways than one. He sits up and looks out the window, and to his surprise, sees Betty's light on. She should be- she had helped plan prom for goodness sakes. He puts on slippers and pads out into the dark street in shorts and a faded tee. The ladder is by the garage and he stares at it for a long time. But then muscle memory helps, and he pushes it to her window, climbing up. 

Her room looks just the same from the outside; pink and girly. She's lying on her bed just like he was, scrolling through her phone. He taps on her window and it nearly aches with familiarity. She jumps up when she sees him, and then she smiles like she can't help herself, and helps him slide the window up. Once he's inside, he takes it in. There are books on the dressing table, and little tubs of pills beside them; neatly labelled. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to prom." He whispers, sitting on her window cill comfortably. She laughs, a rueful smile on her face.

"I wouldn't have gone." She says honestly, and sits on the edge of her bed nearest him. "Well, maybe with  _you,_ but most likely not." 

He wants to touch the soft skin of her shoulder by the strap of her tank top. She's not wearing a bra and he does his best not to look at the swell of her breasts. "I have lego at home." He manages, and relishes the loving look she gives him. "We could..."

"Play lego?" She finishes, laughing, but she's standing up and sliding her shoes into some flip fops. They go down the ladder rather than through the house, and run across the empty road holding hands. All his lego is in his room, and they build a castle and a pirate ship just like before. Jughead loves his castle, and Betty uses her pirate ship to raid it. 

Across the blocks and in the darkness of his room; framed only by the distant amber from the streetlamp outside, he thinks he's probably always loved her. He's never kissed a girl, never so much as looked at one that wasn't her. So he leans across the wooden floor, mindful of the pieces of castle, and uses one hand to brace himself and the other hand to cup her jaw. It's not the most comfortable position, sitting on the floor like this, but her lips are soft under his. 

She pushes into him immediately, sweeping the pieces away between them to loop her arms over his neck. As soon as she's nestled between his legs, her tongue finds its way into his mouth and he leans back; lying on the floor and pulling her with him. There's a few blocks under his head and they feel like they're cutting into his skull, but Betty's pressed flush above him and he can't feel anything but her. When they pull away, he kisses her neck and his hands are softly, tentatively, on her bare waist. She gasps, and he marvels at how sensitive she is. It doesn't matter than, if she's done things with anyone else. None of it matters. Only she matters.

He thinks he might die and go to heaven when she tugs her tank top up over her head. He can only lie there and stare up at her as she straddles him; easily the most beautiful woman in the world. He almost doesn't want to touch her. His hands, when they manage to trail up her stomach are shy, and she snakes her own up under his shirt. "Betty," he whispers, voice dry and hoarse; it cracks like he's fourteen again. "I've always...you're so..."

"What about when I had braces and acne scars?" She asks, voice soft, and he stares at her.

"Betty, you've  _always_ been beautiful."

Her hitched breath makes electricity stick to his skin; fuzzy and soft. She's staring at him in awe, and he can't believe she ever felt as if she wasn't beautiful. He'd never seen the braces or the acne, not when beneath all that was  _Betty._ But then he thinks about how she touched him like he wasn't as gross as he sometimes felt when he was younger, and thinks he understands a little bit. 

They kiss again, catching each other in a haze of desperation. His own shirt gets lost somewhere and he touches her. The first woman, the only woman, he ever wants to touch. His body feels like its in the middle of an artic fire, and she's warm enough, and cool enough to keep him sane. 

"I love you," he whispers, as every inch of them touches. He whispers it against her skin; he whispers it loud enough to be screaming it.

She tangles her fingers into his hair and sighs in contentment. "I love you too, Juggie," 

"Always," he promises.

"Forever." She adheres. 


End file.
